Grimm Street
by Servine Thistle
Summary: Sean Renard has been having bizarre dreams of 1880 London. The time of the Whitechapel murders and Jack the Ripper. In the dreams a serial killer has returned, Jas the Guillotine. When he wakes up, bodies killed with the same MO have appeared in Portland. Could it be a copycat killing? S3 of Grimm S1 of Ripper Street
1. Chapter 1 Dreaming of Deja Vu

_Whitechapel 1889  
_

_Fleeing away from the scene of the crime, the man ran. He was of average build, a common man. All too common for the streets of Whitechapel. Men which Edmund Reid saw too often. Out of the blue, he stopped. The pair of them chasing him stopped. Ripples started to appear on the man's face, as it began to change. It began to grow green and scaly. Bennet and Edmund did not understand what was happening to him. They were both amazed, confused, and fearful all at the same time. All became clear to them when his transformation was complete. He began to cough as the two policeman's eyes widened to what they were seeing. A human turn from man to reptile in a matter of seconds. What followed was a blazing gust of flames. Edmund and Bennet dived out of the way of them. With them scathing Edmund on his left side. As they hit the ground, the monster vanished._

_Leaving the pair of them panting and with more questions than there seemed answers._

_"WHAT IN THE NAME OF- WHAT WAS THAT?" Edmund yelled looking at his wound._

_Panting more than Edmund, "Haven't got a single clue."_

_Gazing at his wound was more painful than the wound itself, dreadful memories flashed before him. His hands began to shake, trapping himself in a loop of trauma. Only being left free by Bennet pulling him up._

_Bennet brought Edmund to Jackson for medical treatment. At first, he bellowed out a huge laugh, that echoed against the chess tiled walls. Until he realised the state that Edmund was in. Jackson pulled up a chair for the injured man and took his shirt off to give him better access to the wound. Revealing all of his other scars. As he preferred, Bennet ignored them, the same with Jackson. The fresh burn was a third-degree one, so Jackson new that he had to be gentle to decrease the amount of potential pain._

_"So what happened?" Jackson was trying to stop Edmund from remembering._

_Edmund let out a deep sigh, "We were chasing a thief, he'd stolen precious resources from one of the factory owners."_

_"Chased the bugger down, then turns out he was a monster." Bennet said, "Thought I was drunk I did."_

_"A monster you say...What kind?"_

_"Don't tell me you believe it?" Bennet teased._

_"No, I'm serious."_

_"It was like a lizard...Green and with many scales."_

_"Then it lit the streets ablaze!"_

_"Dämonfeuer," Jackson muttered._

_"A wot?" Bennet said._

_"It's German, for demon fire. I have a friend who... Never mind. You're all done."_

_Edmund gazed back down at his wound, he didn't realise that Jackson was doing anything. Guess distracting him as a good method to keep him from squealing and squirming. He also had already bandaged the arm up to protect the wound._

_In his office sat, Detective Inspector Edmund Reid. He glared at the blackboard that was in front of him. Pictures with lines to the areas of where Jack the Ripper had mutilated his victims. At this precise moment though, that's all that they were. Pictures on aboard. No links came to him. Nothing sprung to his mind. He had no leads. No witnesses to any of them. He was clenching at the world's smallest straw._

_"I am breaking my back over this!" The Detective yelled._

_Bennet walked up behind Edmund carrying a small glass of alcohol. He gave a deep breath before he too began staring at it. Two women had already died and the police were about ready to give up. Bennet loudly sipped on his drink. He could see the stress of his colleague. It was late. Too late for a man to stress over a killer, who no one could catch._

_"Go home, you need the rest."_

_Edmund looked at his friend, "No, he's out there."_

_Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Bennet smiled, "Not sleeping isn't going to catch him. Oh, by the way, this came in the mail for you. I forgot to mention it."_

_He handed him the letter; 'Dear Detective Inspector Reid. I am writing to inform you that, one of my sergeants will be coming to join your Whitechapel police. His name is Walter Ricsure and has a remarkable eye for spotting out criminals in the dark. I think he might be able to assist you to find your Ripper..."_

_He placed the letter down, Bennet looked over at it, "Oh it's from C Division."_

_"We are going to be having another hand on the Ripper case." Edmund moved away from the board, taking his friend's advice, he grabbed his coat._

_"I see you got ma letter mate." A male voice said._

_Edmund turned around, there he stood. Wearing similar clothes to himself, minus the hat and leather boots. He seemed quite young, with blond locks that touched a little past his ears. His eyes were a piercing ocean blue and he had a soft shaven jawline. His skin wasn't as fair or as light as someone who was blond-haired. That could also be said for his eyebrows, they were dark, almost black. If he had hair on his face, Edmund could assume that it too would grow in black. He pulled his hands from his coat pocket._

_"You must be Sergeant Ricsure?" Edmund put his hand out to shake the new man._

_"Why yes. Though I prefer Wal'er, Sir. You would be?"_

_"Detective Inspector Edmund Reid. This is Detective Sergeant Bennet Drake."_

_Walter smiled, "Very nice to meet the pair of you."_

_Out of nowhere, one of the uniforms rushed into the station. He almost fell over his own feet as he skidded into the room, "We have a body!"_

_The men rushed out of the station, though they took none of the men, who were in uniform. Edmund feared that if they brought the uniform officers with them, the killer might flee. It was best to keep that they were police until they reached the body. Placing themselves into there own privet carriage, Bennet let out a deep sigh. Everyone there prayed to God that it was not a Ripper killing._

_It was quite a bumpy ride, but since there were not many other carriages, the horses could pick up quite a bit of speed to where they need to go. The coachman kept the horses on track, as they raced through the early morning streets._

_Down the west end of Whitechapel was where the body lay. Missing its head. Blood spewed from the wound, leaving all of the man's blood in a pool around him. It was a truly gruesome sight. His blood flowing into the gaps of the pavement like a river. With horror, Bennet gazed at the terrifying sight. The man's head had been sliced clean off. Edmund was the first to get out, shortly followed by Walter. Crouching down to the body, the DI looked at the slice. This was not the first of this particular murder._

_"I do not want to know who is responsible for that," Bennet said with a slight tremble of fear in his voice._

_"I have to agree. But we need to find out." The DI looked up at Bennet._

_Walter knelt to the body, "It's fresh."_

_Edmund looked at him as Walter inspected the slash._

_"This was done by a machete."_

_"Machete?" Bennet was confused as to how Walter knew the specific sort of blade that was used to hack the man's head clean off his shoulders._

_Walter pointed to the skin where the blade first entered, it was ever so slightly torn inwards by the weapon._

_"No knife would be sharp enough to do this. Either a machete or an axe. No no' an axe. Couldn' of bin."_

_Bennet seemed more interest now and he too crouched down, "Could be a sword?"_

_Vigorously, Walter swung his head in disagreement, "No, there would be a trail of dripping blood if it was an axe or a sword. No' to mention, that he would 'ave to have walked up to our victim."_

_"A sword or axe is too hard to conceal from the victim. I think he's right." Edmund agreed._

_"Hey look 'ere." He grabbed a flaming torch from an officer that was surrounding him, he pointed out dust markings that were also on the wound, "The blades were passed down in the killer's family. Meaning that the blade is old."_

_"The blade has probably been sitting in someone's home for a while..." Edmund examined, "Division C was right about you. This is another one of these though."_

_"Another?" Walter seemed confused, "I wasn' aware tha' these murders were takin' place." The dropping of some of his letters was a little bizarre for someone, who came from Mayfair._

_The dropping of letters came from the working-class people of London, mostly in the slums of Whitechapel. However, the vast majority of police, who worked in Mayfair did not come from common families. Though, Edmund ignored this and continued the investigation._

_"Yes, they started in August two years past. A total of thirteen of them, the last one happened in November."_

_"That was around the time that the Royal Family of Austria came to visit the Queen. All of them, missing their heads." Bennet explained, "Just like our Ripper, the killer was never found."_

_"I hope this killer hasn't returned, we have enough with the Ripper," Edmund said._

_"Do you fink the Royals are back?" Walter asked._

_Edmund and Bennet gazed at each other, not understanding why a foreign family would be linked to men losing their heads._

_"Never mind then." Walter rolled his eyes._

_"What shall we dub this killer then?" Bennet said._

_"The press will probably decide that one." Edmund sighed as the men in uniform took the body back to the station._

_In the period of a single morning, the papers had come up with a name for their returning killer. Jas the Guillotine. Jas, being short for Jasper. Edmund found it quite creative. He half expected them to call him a name, the executioner. He was voting on Billy. Bennet was the one, who placed the paper in Edmund's face. He held the paper down so he could read it._

**'HEADHUNTER STRIKES AGAIN! **_Late last night, police investigated a needed that was down Whitechapel's west end. The victim had no head! Similar to the 13 killings that happened only just 2 years prior to this. Once again, the police have no idea on who the killer is. The people of Whitechapel are beginning to call the police an incompetent and idiotic force that couldn't catch Jack the Ripper if he stood a mere three feet from them. The locals have identified the victim such as no other than, Victor Danielson. A proud doctor of the west end. Friends, relatives and patients will miss this amazing, passionate man, who just wanted the best for the people around him...'_

_"I cannot believe what the press have said about us," Edmund said, again staring blankly at the board of the Ripper killings._

_Bennet nodded, "How did they get all of this? Was a reporter stalking us?"_

_Edmund shook his head, "No idea, but we have an ID on the victim."_

_Sipping a cup of water in his hand, Walter came up behind his two new colleagues, "Any thoughts on our Guillotine?"_

_"Nope, a dead end." Edmund moved away from the board, "I am going to begin the investigation on this Guillotine."_

_"Are you sure?" Bennet asked, "You are still on the Ripper's tail."_

_"It is fine."_

_"Would it be alrigh' if I could tag along?" Walter placed his drink down._

_Edmund nodded in his agreement and the pair of them soon left the station._

_It was a pretty normal ride to the west end of Whitechapel, besides the odd reporter, who wanted to know more about the new string of murders. Their victim, Victor, was a forty-three-year-old man, of average height and build. Blond hair with blue eyes and not prone to any sort of physical violence. He was a successful person and turned his own home into a doctor's practice. His wife, Mary was his nurse, along with his daughter, June. His eldest son, Peter, was training to follow in his father's footsteps. Their youngest was seven years old Thomas. This information, Edmund got from the people who lived in the area around the practice. The DI thought it was a good idea to get some background on the victim before speaking to the mourning family. Gently, he knocked on the door. The house was quite big. From the outside, he knew that there were at least four bedrooms. As well as a decent-sized living room and dining area. The house was made up of brick, with the red-orange blocks showing. The magnolia paint had begun to peel. Above the massive double doors was a sign, 'Welcome to Davidson's medical practise.' As the door opened, a young woman answered it. She was no older than seventeen, so she had to be June. She was blonde, her long hair draped down the side of her right shoulder. Her blue eyes stared back at them with confusion written into them. She was still in her nightclothes, though there was blood spatters dotted on them. Just like a bloody Dalmatian. The blood was also in her hair. She backed away for a second, then shut the door. Something seemed to scare her, Edmund could tell by the way that she skittishly shut the door. Without indication, Walter slammed his shoulder into the door of the practice, forcing it open. June stood, cowering against the painted white oak bannister. She was frozen, Edmund shook her with both hands, in an attempt to get her attention. She did not for a while. Gently, Edmund guided her into the living room. He sat her down on one of the chairs near the table, which was next to the window._

_Edmund gave a hard fast slap to Walter.  
_

Captain Sean Renard snapped to attention, he rubbed his face. Feeling the ghostly frozen slap of his dream. He was sat in his office. Again, he had fallen asleep at work. He was not surprised. The recent events with Juliette losing her memory, then his sudden lust for her because of Adalind. Then she fled off to Vienna to be with his brother Eric. What soon followed was the 'tragic' assassination of Eric. Sean rubbed his face, his pain came from the right side of his face. Bursting into the room, Wu appeared, "Captain, we have a body."

He was holding the file of the victim in his left hand, Sean put his hand out. Gesturing to Wu to hand it to him. As he did, Wu came to sit in the chair in front of his captain.

"I thought you should see them."

"Them?" he said opening the file.

Snaps of the bodies, a total of seven. All missing their heads. Sean was feeling a giant surge of déjà vu as he began to remember the dream that he was having. It was the same MO. One clean cut to the victims, the skin was torn where the blade had entered. Even the small amount of dust that was on the skin was the same. Sean's heart began to sink.

"By the way, did you leave the station?" Wu asked.

"Not that I know of."

With regret in his heart, Wu pulled out another picture from his pocket. It was of Sean, in his car, placing him near the scene of the crime.

"I hope you were out getting coffee because I am worried. Did you see anything?"

Sean shook his head, "No, to tell you the truth Wu, I have been asleep in my office."

Wu seemed a little confused, "But you were in your car, this was captured by a camera at eleven-thirty."

Sean gave him a confused glance, "I was not in my car at that time. I came into my office feeling dreadfully tired. I haven't been able to get much sleep. Are you accusing me?"

Shock punched Wu in the face, "No, God no. I was just asking if you knew where you were. So you don't remember anything? Has this happened before?"

"I am unsure."

"If it happens again, I'd call a doctor."

"Are Nick and Hank on the case?"

Wu gave a nod as he exited.


	2. Chapter 2- The Headhunter

_After returning from the crime scene, Nick and Hank took a seat at their desks. The victims were all male, in their mid-twenties. Wearing high-class suits and carrying a lot of cash on them. The victims were; Scott Prestly from the UK, Ajax Gibbson, a local man, Leon Fischer, Fynn Schneider and Luis Müller were all from Germany. The last two were a pair of brothers, Hulio and Argo Rodríguez and they migrated from Spain a year ago. Apart from their names, that was all that they had. There were no fingerprints left at the scene of the crime, no witnesses and no cameras covered the area. The killer picked the area very well. The path that he probably took also had no cameras, so they had no ID on the killer. It was like chasing after a ghost, or an invisible killer. They had no clue on the killer, Hank leaned back on his chair in his boredom. He turned to Nick as Wu came out of Sean's office._

The sergeant came over to the pair of detectives, "The captain has no idea why he was in his car."

"Did he even leave?" Hank questioned.

"I don't think so." Nick puzzled.

"So where do we go with this one?" Wu asked.

"Umm... Call up all of the shops in the area. There has to be someone who saw this."

An idea struck Hank, "Would it be wise to put something on social media asking anyone who knows anything to come forward?"

Nick wasn't too sure on the idea, "Check with the captain first."

Out of the blue, Nick's phone rang, "Burkhardt?"

'Oh Nick, thank goodness.'

"Bud?"

'Yeah, I have a problem. Well, not so much of a problem. I'm sure that you have enough on your plate. Mainly because of all that's been happening with Juliette and with Wessen encounters and-'

Nick rolled his eyes, "Bud, what is it?"

'I rolled into work and there was a body.'

"What?"

'Yeah, it looks like he's been there a while, though he's kinda missing his head.'

"Bud stay were you are, do not touch anything. Hank and I will be over there with a team of forensics."

'Okay, Nick.' Bud hung up.

Hank looked over to his partner with a wave of confusion, "What's Bud calling for?"

"We have another body."

"Bringing the dead up to eight."

Patiently, poor Bud waited for the police to arrive, which they did and in record time. Bud guided Nick and Hank over to the body. He was around the back of the repair shop, there were signs of struggle. Bins had been knocked over, their contact littered around the body. Suggesting that there had been a fight of some kind. Blood had been sprayed on the wall where the blade had made contact with the victim. Hank knelt next to the body, the same kind of blade was used to hack off the man's head. Quite a distance away from the body was the head. Nick had a theory that the head had been kicked as the killer fled the scene.

"I think our killer is an innocent man. Acting in self-defence."

"You think this guy chased our killer to this spot and then he hacked off the victim's head and his seven other buddies followed him. Could be possible. Or the struggle is from the victim and the killer kicked the head out of spite."

"Meaning that the killer knew this man," Nick said.

Bud came over to the pair of them, "So what you got?"

"Bud, we are unsure for now, sadly though this is a crime scene so after once we have finished asking questions...You will have to go home."

Bud seemed a little overwhelmed by everything that had happened, "Oh alright."

"We will call you when forensics are done." Hank said, "So what time did you find the body?"

Wu came over to jot notes of Bud's answers down on his notepad.

"Well, I-I came into work about nine. Then I started repairs on an old fridge that a customer gave me. Business went as usual until I-I went round the back. The bin in my office was full of waste, so I went over." Bud told the story exactly how he recalled it, he was just a bit nervous and his stutter got in the way.

"And that's when you phoned me."

"Yeah."

"Well, he's been dead for quite a while..." Hank said.

"Estimated time of death is around three am... The time for the others was about two hours later." Wu said.

"Others? There are others? Oh my god!" Bud began to panic.

Nick placed his arm around Bud as another officer called Wu away, "It's okay Bud."

"Do you think that it was a Grimm?" Bud asked.

"That was my first theory, who else goes around hacking people's heads off." Hank said, "But it couldn't have been Nick, he would have said something to myself or the captain."

"You're right." Nick agreed.

"So we have a second Grimm in town and this one seems experienced," Hank said.

This news of there possibly being another Grimm in Portland made Bud panic twice as much, "Bud calm down."

"Sorry I can't help it." he accidentally Woged.

Hank stared at Bud as the inner Eisbiber came to reveal itself. Bud placed his hands on his face, realised that he had Woged. He panicked again and Woged back to normal. That still fascinated Hank, he could watch a friendly Wessen Woge for the majority of the day and still he would not be bored of it. Finally, Bud began to calm down.

"Now go home," Hank said.

"Home? Oh right. I'll let you guys do your job." Bud began to walk over to his car, driving away from the crime.

Hank snickered as he watched him drive away, "I still don't understand why the killer would kill this guy. Then the rest of them almost on the other end of Portland."

Nick shrugged, "Definitely suggests that he was being chased. Best we return, then start phoning up the areas around this shop and the others."

Hank agreed, "There is no way that no one could have seen or heard something. It just doesn't add up. Though I'd don't really want to meet the guy who did this."

Nick smiled as they began to walk away and back to their car, "Well we are going to have to since we need to arrest him."

"Good point..." a shiver went down Hank's spine.

With a quick knock, Nick got the attention of Sean. He opened the door with Hank by his side. Sean gazed away from the pair of them, he let out a deep sigh as he closed a copy of the file that Wu gave him.

"Same MO." Nick began.

"Only, this one was killed first. Not sure though if it's Wesen."

Sean let out a different sigh, "What are you thinking?"

"There might be another Grimm in Portland and I don't think he or she is friendly," Hank said.

"I can tell you know, the victims were all members of the Verrat. So the theory of our killer being a Grimm might be quite accurate."

"How do you want us to deal with this?" Nick said.

"Find him or her, take them into custody. Hopefully, they're on our side."

"It could be your mum," Hank suggested.

"Maybe, but she would have contacted me."

Sean gave a quick nod, "Go and find him."

The pair of detectives left the room, shutting the door behind them. As they did, Sean's eyes became heavy. Gently, his body fell into a deep sleep. 

**_The terrified girl gazed into the eyes of Walter, though it was only making her worse. Two police officers had just broken into her house. Slowly, she began to calm down, taking in deep breaths to help her. By this point, Walter had turned to face the window, his gaze was striking fear into the heart of the girl. As he did so, she began to calm down._**

_"Inspector..." She finally came to say._

_"You must be June."_

_She nodded, her hands were still shaking._

_"Please don' be afraid of us. We're all friends 'ere."_

_Again she nodded, "I am terribly sorry. I just get frightened easily. What can I help you with?"_

_"Your father?" Edmund began._

_"Yes, he was...I saw the papers." She looked into her hands._

_"Do ya know wot 'happened love?"_

_Fear came into her eyes once again, but she kept it together, mainly so she did not reveal herself to Edmund, "My mother...She's been Ripped."_

_Shock came to Edmund's eyes as tears came to June's, "Ripped you say?"_

_She gave a firm nod, "The Ripper was in my house, he cut my mother right open. S-she was in the dining room when it happened... Father heard her body hit the floor, catching the Ripper in the act."_

_Edmund could not believe what he was hearing, "Where were you and your brother?"_

_"My brother was off getting drunk and I was upstairs putting my youngest brother to bed."_

_"What became of the Ripper?"_

_"He fled the house, father rushed after him. He turned the corner and he never came back. I don't think father was killed by the Ripper."_

_"He was killed by the Guillotine... A very different murderer."_

_"Why was the Ripp'r in your 'ouse?"_

_She handed Edmund a note that was clenched in her hand, the man looked over it;  
_

_To June_

_You r a sweet sole the hole of your family is. But I fink this ad to be done. Your mother wos involved wiv, the men who wos killed by that Gilltine fella. Her and your father have been providing fands to the killer. Not sure if your bother is in on this to. Fought I would give her a swif sent off. Rather than lettin the other fella get to her._

_Soz love, no hard felings, thou dont get you self involved in this._

_-Jack the Ripper_

_Edmund tried not to let shock overwhelm him. This was the first evidence that they had. His heart began to pound, his breathing had quickened. Walter placed a hand on the Inspector's shoulder, calm thoughts came to him. He gazed back at the letter again, taking a careful look at the handwriting. It was beautiful, for starters it was italic with it being very flowing in the letters. All of the Ripper's capital letters were large, with them having defined gorgeous swirls to letters such as; Y, F, G, J, R and I. Even his lower case ys and fs were quite curly. It just baffled Edmund, as who could have taught the Ripper to write. June pulled Edmund's hands down so she could see the letter, she pointed to a few of the letters._

_"Your Ripper is left-handed." she pointed out._

_Edmund gazed back at the letters, still confused how she figured that out._

_"Lefties form some of their let'ers differently to righties. Such as o and a, they also hold the quill differentl' with it positioned in an arc, creating a nice slant in the writing."_

_"They also have trouble with writing, since they are more likely to smudge it."_

_"I see that, he has attempted to write the note before, since there is smudging on the left side. Meaning that there was all ready ink on the side of his palm..."_

_June looked at the note again, "I must say, for a lefty, he has beautiful writing. Most lefties writing is scruffy and hard to read. Sometimes they can not read their own writing."_

_"I see, so who taught him?"_

_"Someone who spent a lot of time on it, possibly his mother or maybe an older sibling. He quite possibly could have just had a lot of practice."_

_Edmund nodded, he did not want to ask the question that was lingering in his mind, "Was your mother involved in prostitution?"_

_June seemed shocked that Edmund would ask such a thing, "Not as far as I know. Why did you ask such a question?"_

_Edmund sighed, "Because all of the Ripper's victims have been of that class."_

_There was dead silence in the room for a while._

_"So did ya see the Ripper?"_

_She shook her head, "Sadly. I wish would have seen him. Then you could have gotten a description..."_

_Edmund placed his hands over her's, "That is quite alright, I need to see your mother."_

_June stood up, guiding the two men into the room. Her mother lay, dead. Her body with a single slash across the neck. It was deep, blood would have flown out of it like a waterfall. Though there was no gash across her abdomen. Her face was recognisable. If he hadn't left the note, Edmund would have been lead to believe that she was not killed by Jack the Ripper. More like a Ripper copycat. The note could be fake and it might not be the true Ripper. But at least it was something to go on. He knelt, examining the body further. The blade was the same as what the Ripper used. A thin, but exceptionally sharp blade. Allowing him to slice through flesh as if it was hot butter. Edmund sighed, wishing that he was not gazing into the dead eyes of a victim of the Ripper._

_"Your father interrupted him before he could do anything else to her."_

_"But was then cut off about firty minutes away from your 'ouse by Guillotine..." Walter was thinking out loud, "'E could have lost the Ripper because the turned a blind corner."_

_"Then found the Guillotine, who was quite possibly after your mother. But took your father..."_

_"Are the Ripper and the Guillotine working together?" June suggested as she tried to keep her eyes off her mother._

_Edmund shook his head, "Why would the Ripper kill your mother if they were working together? He would have just allowed the Guillotine to do his work for him. Save himself the aggravation. Then there's the note. He's apologising for being forced to kill her. He'd rather slit her, then allow her head to be cut off..."_

_Tears came to June's eyes, "I guess I can thank the Ripper then, for saving my mother."_

_Edmund sighed, "I would not thank him, he's a man that does awful things. I want to catch him. There might be a chance that either Ripper or Guillotine could come for your brother. I'm unsure of either of their motives for wanting him dead but-"_

_"He said it on the note. Ripper was savin' them pain, whereas Guillotine wanted them dead cuz they were giving funds to the other victims."_

_Edmund blinked with a blank expression, he didn't really know what to say to Walter._

_"So what happens now?" June broke the silence._

_Edmund snapped to her attention, "She will be taken to our surgeon to confirm if this is indeed a Ripper killing, after that it is your choice what you do with her."_

_She nodded as the inspector gently lifted her mother's body and exited out of the house with her. Edmund placed her into the carriage. Though her neck was covered to keep the blood from getting on the interior. The coachman whipped on the reins to get the horses moving, the set off back to the station._

_The body was brought to Jackson, he was puffing on a cigarette as Edmund and Frederick Abberline. They came into the cloud of the American's smoke. Violently, Frederick let out a terrible cough, his eyes had begun to tear from it. Jackson put the cigarette out, swiftly opening a window. Once Abberline had caught his breath, he gazed at the body with fear in his still tearing eyes._

_"Ripper." He knew the signs._

_"That she was chief." he flicked over her right hand._

_This revealed a strange brand that had been burnt into the skin. A single diamond with interlocking swords. Abberline grabbed the hand to have a closer look, intrigued by its bizarre nature._

_"That has been on all of the other girls."_

_"No...?" Edmund said._

_"Our Ripper is only interested in girls that share that brand. I don't know how he finds them, but he's good." Jackson explained._

_Abberline seemed a little puzzled, "Why these girls? I understand that every killer has a target, but I just assumed it was just tarts."_

_Jackson gave a deep sigh, "Guess you don't know your Ripper as well as you think you did chief."_

_"Why did you not tell us before?" Edmund asked._

_"Oh, it's in the reports. You just failed to read it," he smirked._

_Edmund gave him an unimpressed look, "Women could have avoided death Jackson."_

_"I didn't see the link, until now."_

_"NOW SIX WOMEN ARE DEAD! Killed by our dear Ripper!" Abberline bellowed._

_"Here's a question, which is worse? Ripper or Guillotine?"_

_The pair of police officers exchanged glances. The two serial killers were both terrible and the manner in which they killed struck fear into the hearts of those who saw them. However, Edmund knew which one Abberline would choose._

_"Ripper...Yes, Guillotine's methods are brutal, but Ripper is more methodical...Harder to predict. Also, it is harder for a copycat to truly mimic a Ripper killing. Whereas, with Guillotine, any murderer could hack a head off the bury it somewhere."_

_Jackson shrugged, "I guess so. Though there was one of Ripper's victims who didn't have this brand."_

_"Which one? Eddowes, I believe that she spotted Ripper in the act, interrupted him whilst he was killing Stride and he went after her."_

_"Stride was the girl with only her heck pierced," Edmund confirmed._

_Jackson nodded, "Eddowes was a tart yes, but not part of the Ripper's schedule. Though he had to dispose of the girl to prevent the police from finding him."_

_Abberline nodded, "By that point, we had patrol units on every blinking cat house in the city...So I don't understand how he got to either of them."_

_Jackson shrugged, "He's just very smart."_


	3. Chapter 3- A Past Life?

They had been driving for a moment, returning to the area where the first set of bodies were found. Hank parked the car on the street, making sure to lock it before leaving. Nick and his partner found the first shop, it was a shoe shop. Luckily, it had cameras on the outside of the building. Hank was pretty much begging at this point for there to be something on those cameras. Nick stepped foot into the shop first, shelves as far as the eye could see of nothing but, shoes. Juliette would love a shopping trip in this one. Nick didn't understand how someone could come into a shop like the one he was standing in and walk out with seven different pairs of shoes. The walls of the shop were painted milk-white, with a feature wall at the back painted a sky blue colour. The shelves were colour coded; sport's wear was red, walking shoes were orange, yellow was babywear, green was for mountain boots, waterproof shoes were blue, adult male was dark blue, adult female was a light pink, fancy shoes were a dark pink, winter shoes were white and there was even a black shelf for other seasons of footwear. On each shelf, there had to be over one hundred different kinds of shoe, all in different styles and sizes. Nick ignored the overwhelming amount of shoes and turned to the cashier. She was tall, probably wearing a pair of six-inch heels. Her brunette hair stood out from the purple feathered fedora that she was wearing. Her dress was also a purple, more of an indigo. Nick sighed as he didn't want to talk about a homicide to a woman, who was no older than seventeen. Though it was hard to tell with the amount of make-up that she had.  
"Excuse me." Nick flashed his badge at her, "We are Detectives Burkhardt and Griffin. We would like to see the footage that's on your outside cameras."  
The girl seemed a little shocked to see the police in her shop, "Oh sure."  
She turned the computer around and flicked on the programme for the outside cameras. There was nothing there for quite a while, no one passed. Until a man with his head down came out from the ally that was across from the shop. He wore a black trench-coat, black trousers, posh leather shoes, a black scarf that covered his mouth, and an old fashioned flat cap. The suspect kept his head down and his shoulders hunched upwards. He seemed to walk with a little limp on his right leg, it was clear to Nick that he was having problems with that leg. Quite possibly pain. The suspect held his hands in his pockets, as their victim, Ajax followed him. To Nick's eyes, Ajax Woged. He was a Hundjäger. The suspect opened his trench-coat, pulling out a blooded machete. With one single slice and with a ton of force, the suspect slashed off Ajax's head. Freeing it off his shoulders.  
The girl watched his horror as the suspect did the same to the other men. One by one, they were effortlessly, hacked down by the man. Hank paused the footage to save the girl from experiencing a homicide.  
Nick gazed at the paused footage, as Hank pulled out a memory stick. He shoved it into one of the ports on her computer. Transferring the footage onto it.  
Fear was in the girl's voice, "Is there anything else?"  
"No. Thank you." Hank said, "We will drop by if we need anything else."  
The pair of them exited the shop, as they did so Nick turned to Hank, "All of our victims were Wesen."  
"You sure?"  
"Hundjägers."  
"They work for the Verrat... So he is a Grimm."  
"It seems that way."  
They began to walk away from the shop, "Man did you see how he swung that machete? Damn that was impressive." Hank was pleased.  
Nick nodded, "I could do that."  
"With the force and velocity of him? Not too sure. Not to mention how he dodged them. We have got to show the captain this." Hank smiled.  
"Agreed, but we should still stay and check the other shops."  
"Yeah, they might have different angles."  
When Nick opened the office door of the captain, he was fast asleep. The Grimm was not surprised to find Sean in this state. It was late, though he was not sure how long Sean had been asleep for. Hank followed in afterwards, with him being the one to wake the captain up. He jumped in his chair as Hank gently shook him awake. He was surprised to see the pair of them in his office so soon. He pressed the home button on his phone, he didn't realise that it was after six. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he gazed at his detectives.  
"You alright captain?"  
"Yeah, just a bit sleepy. What have you got for me?"  
"This."  
Hank shoved the memory stick into Sean's sleeping laptop, with a flick of the mousepad, Hank woke it up too. He allowed the footage to play, Sean watched in both horror and in awe. Once it was done, he let out a long sigh.  
"So we have a flat cap wearing Grimm who's out for blood," Hank said.  
Sean nodded, "He's defiantly a Grimm?"  
"Nick says they're Hundjägers."  
"All of them!?"  
"Yes." Nick said, "Any chance we could run a facial ID on the suspect?"  
"From my laptop? Yes."  
Sean brought up the ID software, allowed it to scan the mysterious Grimm's face and see if it could find a match.  
ID Match, Sean Renard.  
"What?" Hank exclaimed.  
"That can't be right." Sean puzzled as he allowed the software to scan several more times.  
Each and every single one of them came back saying that the flat-capped man was Sean.  
A confused expression came to Nick, "Since when did you know how to fight like a Grimm?"  
Sean shook his head, "I don't know."  
"Okay, where were you in the hours of three and five this morning...?" Hank had to ask.  
"Asleep." Sean stressed, "I didn't leave my bed until seven."  
He was not lying. But no one could explain why he killed eight Wesen in those hours.  
Sean was beginning to panic, but to the two detectives, he was calm.  
"We're are going to have to search for the weapon," Hank said.  
Sean stood up, took off his trench-coat, only his gun was on him. Nothing else. Sean took in a deep breath as he sat down.  
"You don't remember any of this?" Nick asked.  
"No, I don't. You think I would remember the feeling of swinging such a weapon. If I was not aware that this was me, I would have said that it was a Grimm."  
"We thought that too," Hank said.  
"The speed and skill of an experienced Grimm... I don't even know where it came from."  
A thought crossed Hank, "Are you related to one?"  
"I don't think so..."  
Nick's phone began to ring. Monroe.  
'Nick, those murders, the guys that have lost their heads. It's a Grimm!'  
"Not too sure about that one?" Nick placed Monroe on speaker, "Monroe, you're on speaker, I'm with Hank and Renard."  
'That's fine, hear me out, one of my great grandparent's friends was killed in the same method. Back in 1889, they were visiting England, specifically Whitechapel.'  
"Whitechapel? What's that got to do with anything?" Hank asked.  
'During the years of the murders surrounding Jack the Ripper, there was another serial killer who started a year before the Ripper. Hacking off thirteen men's heads in 1887.'  
"Who was he?" Nick said.  
'He was dubbed by the media, Jas the Guillotine.'  
"Cool name," Hank said.  
"What do you know about him?" Nick said.  
'Well, just like the Ripper, Jas was never found or caught. Leading a lot of people to think that they were using similar methods to escape, or possibly working together.'  
Hank smiled, "Or the same person."  
'No that was disproven by an apologetic note from the Ripper. Claiming that he was sorry for killing the wife of a Wesen doctor who lived in the west end of the city.'  
"The Ripper wanted to save the woman the pain of the Guillotine's wrath. The family was involved with providing funds for the men that the Guillotine killed in 1887." Sean explained.  
'You know a lot.'  
"I know my history."  
'Anyway, this disproved that the Ripper and Guillotine were the same person. At least to the police.'  
"But how did the Ripper know that Guillotine would be after the family?" Nick asked.  
'No one really knows. Which is the strange part.'  
"Can I tell him?" Hank asked Sean.  
'Tell me what?'  
Sean nodded.  
"It was Renard who kill those men."  
Monroe was in shock, 'What? How? The footage was put on the news. The store shared it on social media.'  
"They what?" Sean accidentally Woged.  
'No one knows it was you.'  
"The problem is, Renard can't remember doing it," Nick said.  
'Like at all?'  
"Yes, nothing." Nick made it clear to Monroe that this was serious.  
'Weird...'  
"I keep having dreams..." Sean admitted.  
'Of what?' Rosalee's voice could be heard in the background.  
Monroe moved closer so she could hear.  
"Oh Victorian England, Whitechapel. 1888... The Guillotine has just struck the man who you were talking about. With the note from the Ripper."  
Both Monroe and Rosalee were shocked, 'Come down to the spice shop. I need to get a better look at you.' Rosalee said.  
"We will be there," Nick said as he hung up.  
Sean rose up from his chair and grabbed his coat. He shut the face recognition programme down and turned the laptop off.  
The spice and tea shop was not too far of a drive away from where they were, though it was easier for them to take one car. Nick was the first one of them to enter the shop, spotting Rosalee stacking the shelves with jars filled to the brim with a green powdered herb. Gracefully, she turned around to see her expected guests arrive. Monroe appeared from the room to the left of the entrance. As they came in, Rosalee walked over and turned the sign. Closing the shop. She flicked the latch to lock the door. Monroe gestured for them all to head into the room that he came from. Sean sat down first as Monroe shut the door behind him. Rosalee sighed, then smiled at Sean. She could feel and see his tension, every muscle in his body was firm. The ripples in his shirt gave it way to her.  
"Right, so these dreams." Rosalee began, "They're of past murders."  
Sean nodded.  
"But he doesn't remember murdering those eight Hundjägers." Hank started to explain.  
"Hundjägers!? I wouldn't feel sorry for them." Monroe

nearly celebrated the fact that eight of them were dead.  
"I know, but the fact that I can not remember killing them... it is a little unnerving."  
Rosalee understood how he felt, "So how did the dreams begin?"  
"A detective named Reid, puzzling over the Ripper killings. He got a letter from his sergeant informing him of a new employee."  
"Who's he?" Monroe asked as Rosalee started to take notes.  
"Walter Ricsure."  
"Ricsure? We will check the name later." Hank said, "Keep going."  
"Ricsure introduces himself to his new employers, then they get called because of a body."  
"What time of day is it?" Rosalee said.  
"There was no sun, but it wasn't dawn. It was too early. But it was too light for it to be any time before three. Mainly due to the fact that I think it was November..."  
"So the bodies were found quite possibly around six or seven. So they could have been murdered at the same time as our ones."  
Rosalee pulled out her laptop, typing into the search bar 'Jas the Guillotine.' She clicked on the second search result and began to read it out, "Jas the Guillotine was an unidentified serial killer most active around the backstreets of Whitechapel and the areas numerous areas of England, the first major account being in 1887. Attacks committed by Jas the Guillotine can be possibly be traced back to 1884. Victims of Jas the Guillotine were described to have had their heads completely removed by a large sharp blade. This killer has been thought to have killed over one hundred people around the areas of Cornwall, the East Midlands and London. However, these killings were not linked to him until 1887, where it was thought that he hacked the heads off thirteen men. Leaving their bodies in a pile down a large backstreet of Whitechapel. It was believed that Jas the Guillotine took the heads as trophies since no heads were left at the scene."  
"What kind of a nut job would do that!?" Monroe exclaimed.  
"A smart man, who does not wish to be caught." Sean bluntly stated, "Continue Rosalee."  
"The first victim who he did not take the head of was; Victor Danielson. A local doctor, who was aged around forty-five. Captain and surgeon, Homer Jackson estimated his time of death to be around three am. With police discovering his body around two hours later."  
"Well, that's freaky," Hank said.  
"It mirrors the one we found at Bud's place. Same MO, and time of death." Nick said.  
"The other seven were killed two hours later..." Sean said.  
"Freaky...anything else?" Monroe said.  
"When police visited his residence, his wife had been murdered by Jack the Ripper. Though it is unconfirmed if it was a true Ripper killing since she was not involved in prostitution. Though a letter was given to the daughter. Leading the majority of police to believe that Ripper and Jas the Guillotine were in coalition. With the H District police believing that Jas the Guillotine was assisting the Ripper in his 'cleansing of the streets of Whitechapel' by hacking the men that were most likely to enter brothels, roughly there were 62 of them that were in the district at the time."  
Monroe was shocked by this information, "So when did he stop killing?"  
"Ummmm..." Rosalee scrolled down, "Due to the nature and the method of his killings, there was no way of tracking him. Though it was believed that he posted the head of a man to the address of an Austrian noble, on the same day that Jack the Ripper sent half of a preserved kidney to the George Lusk."  
"Gross!" Monroe expressed his disgust.  
Rosalee ignored him and continued, "The reason for him doing this was to strike fear to the people outside of England, to scare them away from the country. As at the time of the murders, there was a great spike of Europe's population migrating to the country and committing crime. It was estimated that his killing was finally put to an end in 1904. Though there have been plenty of Jas the Guillotine copycats, that have sprung up, many around Germany and the United States of America."  
Monroe clapped his hands, "So Jas the Guillotine was a Grimm."  
Rosalee nodded, "Most defiantly."  
"The guy hacked off heads for a living!" Monroe raised his voice.  
"And he worked with the Ripper," Nick said.  
"But why did the Ripper killings stop?" Hank asked.  
"Jas the Guillotine hacked Jack's head off. He got annoyed at him." Monroe was beginning to get too excited.  
"Then Jack the Ripper would have had to of been a Wesen for a Grimm to take him down." Sean explained, "But what do these dreams have to do with me?"  
The room went silent for a moment, until Rosalee spoke, "Maybe, one of the detectives of the H Division was you."  
"What?" Hank was confused.  
"You mean a past life?" Sean confirmed.  
She nodded, "It would explain, the mirror link between Victor and the victim found outside of Bud's."  
"There's only one problem there."  
"That would be?"  
"I killed all of them."  
Rosalee's eyes opened wide, "Right... So cross past lives of the list."  
It was at that moment when Sean passed out. His body fell limp, smacking his head on the table as he went down.  
"Oh my god!" Rosalee yelled. 


	4. Chapter 4 Cold Messaging

_It had been several days since the murder of Victor Danielson. Sadly, just as the letter that Jack the Ripper had left with June came true. Jas the Guillotine had struck again. Three nights after his father's murder, Peter had been brutally killed. Though the police only managed to identify that it was him because of two things, one he was missing, two Jas the Guillotine had mailed the head to one of the many aristocrats. The man who received the head and a note from Jas the Guillotine burst into the police station. He was as pale as a clean blanket, gazing at him, anyone in the right mind would have assumed that he just had an encounter with a ghost. Walter and Edmund were the first to approach him. The man was Thomas Kaiser, an Austrian nobleman, who enjoyed visiting England when he could get the chance. He owned his privet estate just outside of Whitechapel and was quite well known in his home country. He wore a high-class silk white suit, with golden cufflinks. His trousers were also white, though his shoes were black expensive leather. His short blond hair was perfectly groomed, not a strand out of place. His perfect blue eyes started back at the policemen as if he had a great story to share with them. In the midst of his panic, he nearly passed out._

_"A head!" his posh, German accented voice had a hint of panic and fear in it, "It vas in a box. Sent to me, vith a note."_

_With his hands trembling with fear, he handed the note over to Edmund, Bennet came over and took the note from his colleague.  
_

_Dear Lord Kaiser, Sir._

_Meet Mr Peter Danielson, the man who I sliced the head off. Just like countless others. I have given this to you because what you commit is a crime! As I did with Danielson, I will hunt down and hack the heads off all of your accomplices if you do not return. I hope I'm getting my message across. Oh and tell your royal friends that the Kehrseite of England doesn't wish to be bothered by your reign._

_-Jas the Guillotine_

_P.S, you will join them soon if you stay.  
_

_Poor Bennet struggled on the word 'Kehrseite' not really knowing what it meant._

_As he read the letter out, Kaiser began to panic so much that his breathing was starting to quicken because of it. With every word that left Bennet's mouth, the pace of Kaiser's breathing intensified. Gently, Walter guided the man to one of the seats that were backed up against one of the walls in the station. He began to calm down as Edmund sat next to him._

_Bennet let out a deep sigh, "We have a lot of evidence to believe that Jas the Guillotine and Jack the Ripper are in unison."_

_"VHAT!?"_

_Both Edmund and Walter seemed a little confused by his Bennet's accusation. He knelt down so Kaiser could see the letter that was from Jas the Guillotine. He pointed to the writing. It was scruffy, barely legible. Not to mention that there was blood on the paper._

_"From what Edmund discovered, the Ripper has somewhat neat and flowing handwriting. If I did not know any better, I would mistake the Ripper's writing for that of a Lord."_

_"Is he a Lord?"_

_Edmund shook his head, "He can not be. No Lord possesses the medical knowledge that the Ripper does."_

_"Now this Jas the Guillotine seems to be of working class. Most of them have scruffy writing." Bennet explained._

_"That's if they can write at all." Water said._

_"Zough he is not vne to give idol zeats?" Kaiser was still shaking in his shoes._

_"No killer is going to make a threat that they can not live up to," Edmund said._

_"Unless they are a coward," Bennet exclaimed._

_"I don't think they are working together," Edmund said with confusion in his tone._

_"What makes you say that?"_

**_"Ripper's letter, he's apologising to June for slaying her mother. Saving her from Jas the Guillotine, meaning that he was quite possibly going to torture the poor woman."_**

_"Oh my!" Kaiser tired not to Woge again._

_Bennet disbelieved the idea that the Ripper was giving salvation or saving June's mother, "He's a cold-blooded killer. Guillotine, the pair of them need to be put to justice."_

_"I understand that, but-"_

_"IT'S JACK THE RIPPER! IT'S JACK THE RIPPER! He has struck me again!"_

_George Lust, the chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, burst through the doors of the station. He was a man of average build, wearing a posh black suit, complete with grey-black trousers and newly polished shoes. His brown hair was extremely short, with it only just barely being able to touch his ears. On his head was a mayor-like hat and in his mouth was a lit cigar. He was out of breath, one quick glance and Edmund thought that he had run from one end of Whitechapel to the other._

_"It's the Ripper."_

_Edmund rose up, walking over to George, "The Ripper you say?"_

_"Yes. It happened again Edmund."_

_"Calm down, explain from the beginning."_

_He took some deep breaths before speaking, "Just like before, I got a gift in the mail. I opened it and a letter. I thought that it seemed familiar but I just passed it off as nothing more than an ill feeling... When I opened it up, well it was a kidney-"_

_Walter was shocked, "Did 'e say kidney?"_

_"Yes, young man..."_

_"Charmin'"_

_"Anyway, like before I take the kidney to the nearby hospital for examination. I thought you should see the letter."_

_Happy to get it off his chest and mind, George gladly handed the note over. To prevent Kaiser from freaking out, he moved so both Bennet and Walter could see the letter.  
_

_From hell, again_

_Mr Lusk,_

_'Ello_

_I bet ya love hereing from me, same as lass yer Mr Lusk. Ha! You're gonna love this tail. Tha Kidney tha I send you I took from the same one tha I send yo lass tyme. Didn't no I cood preserved it for you for tha long. I fought I wood give back. Don't rejet ma gift sir, or your will juss get 'em back._

_signed_

_Good look fyndin me.  
_

_He had done it again. At least there was nobody to find. Edmund was surprised to see that he hadn't sighed it with 'Jack the Ripper' as he had done with the letter that he had sent to June. Those his misspelling was somewhat poor and his grammar was also pretty lacklustre. He could also tell that the Ripper was rushing the letter since the handwriting was somewhat scruffy. There was also an inconsistency with how thick the letters were in the middle of the page. The lines were slanted more to one side, indicating his left-handedness. At least he knew that the two letters that they had, were quite possibly from the same person._

_Edmund smiled at the chairman, "Well, he clearly likes you, sir."_

_"You need to catch him!" Lusk said._

_"We shall sir," Bennet said, "But we need to follow up on a lead. Let Hobbs take you, escort ya home."_

_"I would like that very much."_

_Edmund nodded as himself, Bennet and Kaiser exited the station._

**_The house where Kaiser was staying was grand. Something that Edmund could only dream of having. It was almost four houses in one. With strong thick stone pillars keeping the balcony up. From the front, it had over ten windows. The garden that he had was stupidly big, with it having black iron gates. From them, a gravel path was marketed out. This swirled around a large fountain, which was located in front of the house. Out from the bushes, Kaiser pulled a wooden crate. He pulled the lid, revealing the head of their victim. Kaiser nearly threw up, having to look at that again. It was not good for his stomach. With haste, he slammed the wooden lid back down, nearly catching his fingers in the process._**

_"Please take it!" He expressed his displeasure of the item._

_Bennet picked up the box with a snicker, "We will find Jas."_

_"Of course, I have every faith in zee police."_

_As they began to walk closer to the police station, a young boy managed to grab Edmund's wallet. He accomplished this by walking normally, then slipping his hand in and grasping it. Immediately, Edmund knew that something was wrong._

_"Go, I've got everything." Bennet began to walk away._

_With all the speed that he could muster, he raced after the boy. Chasing down the crowded streets of Whitechapel. Dodging the ordinary people, who were just minding their own business. The tailing seemed to go on for quite a while. He was beginning to find it hard to keep up with the boy. He was starting to lose him in the crowded streets. He dashed passed the pub, which he usually finds Jackson at. Though he knew that his surgeon was going to be at the station, analysing the head that they just discovered. He continued on, the people grew confused over who he was chasing. He passed one of the many brothels. Down a back ally. Then a sharp left turn. The boy turned around, revealing that he too was a monster. With an ugly appearance, a v-shaped hairline that was slicked back. Pointed ears, deadly sharp fangs and piercing glowing crimson eyes. This distracted him as fear was beginning to set into his heart._

_All of a sudden, he tripped. A surge of pain ran up his leg. Blood poured out of the wound like a river. He stayed on the ground for a moment, trying to force the pain to pass. But there was no luck in that happening anytime soon. A huge shard of glass protruded out of the wound, quite possibly from a large bottle of whiskey._

_"You alrigh' there mate?" A common man's voice said._

_Edmund's eyes and ears searched for the source of the voice. It was to his right. Further down the ally. A shot of adrenaline came to him, he rose up. Limping from the wound, using the wall of the house to guide him towards the voice. He was young, no older than twenty, maybe a little older. He sat upright with an old blanket that was riddled with holes. His short brown hair was scruffy, if he gave it a comb, it might touch passed his ears. The inspector gazed into his blue eyes stared back at him. The homeless man slept in a large wooden crate that was beginning to rot at the top. Though Edmund found it strange how he was clean shaven. The box was placed on its side so he could sit in it. Leaving the safety and warmth of his blanket, he rose up. He wore a ruined shirt, that Edmund knew had to be originally white. However, it had never been cleaned. His trousers were the same, ripped and torn. His abdomen was exposed, revealing a nasty scar across his lower abdomen where his intestines would be. Over his shoulder, he carried a dark olive bag. It too looked old and worn. He also had no shoes. Edmund came to the man, sitting down by him as he sat down to fiddle with what was in the bag._

_"That's a nasty one. How did ya get it?"_

_"Tripped whilst chasing a thief." he didn't want to admit that he was seeing monsters._

_"You'll find a load of 'em."_

_In the bag was surgical equipment. Scalpel, needle, long surgical scissors, surgical thread, an iron bowl, clean bandages and a bottle of whiskey. He poured the whiskey into the bow, placed the scalpel, needle, scissors and thread into it. Allowing them to soak, getting rid of any bacteria. He poured it on his hands, before taking a look at the lodged piece of glass. He first pulled the scalpel out, making a small incision at the top and bottom of the glass. Gently, he pulled it out. Like a waterfall, he allowed the alcohol to pour onto the wound. Edmund screamed in agony as the burning stinging sensation travelled all over his body. His hands clenched onto the ground, trying not to move and trying to fight through the pain._

_"You have a low pain tolerance."_

_He smiled, "You are quite right, pain is not my speciality."_

_The man cracked a smile, "Now this will hurt."_

_He picked up the needle and threaded it. Edmund began to bite his lip to get through the pain. Though it was not that bad. However, the inspector was amazed at the young man's skill. It was like he had been tried from birth, his stitching was neat and tidy. Being able to perform a left-handed surgical stitch was truly remarkable. Using the combination of allowing the needle in, allowing the thread to go so far through and then using the scissors to make a tight knot. In no time at all, he began to place the bandage on, Edmund only required a total of twelve stitches. He made sure that the bandage was not too tight._

_"I am sorry 'bout your trousers mate._

_Edmund gazed down, noting that they were torn where the glass was, all the way down to the hem._

_"That is quite all right. What is your name?"_

_"Peter Gray."_

_"Inspector Edmund Reid."_

_"You're that man whose on that Ripper case?"_

_"Yes, may I ask where you learnt your skill from? You are no doctor."_

_"Friend, Jacob. Didn't have a last name."_

_"A surgeon?"_

_"Doctor, I fink. Haven't seen him since 1887, he was still training."_

_"That is a shame... Do you know why he trained you?"_

_"It wos not really train, Jacob began treatin' the 'omeless, I assumed he was practicin', people didn't seem to mind. He didn't want anything. I watched him. Hung around him like a dog..."_

_"Was Jacob left-handed?"_

_"Don't really know. He favoured it when he was stickin'...But he, well. If I'm honest, I can't remember which one he used more."_

_"That is quite alright."_

_"You wos wonderin' if he was Ripper."_

_He smiled, "I guess, he assisted the homeless. Your Jacob sounds like a kindhearted man."_

_"That he wos."_

_This brought some light to Edmund, "You wished to be a surgeon like him?"_

_Peter looked down, "I don't know...I only really know how to do wot I did to you. I ain't got any money to pay for it."_

_He ruffled in his pocket, there was quite a few coins in it, he handed the majority of what was there to Peter._

_The young man was in shock, no one had ever given him money for his medical treatment, "Thank you."_

_Edmund smiled as he rose up, he was a little wobbly on his leg. But he was able to manage._

_"You are most welcome." He began to hobble away._

_Charging into Jackson's medical chambers, the door swung nearly pulling it off its hinges. Despite his leg injury, he was still able to walk fine. Jackson didn't realise that he was hurt until he saw the blood on his trousers._

_"You alright Reid?"_

_"I saw another monster. I am LOSING MY MIND!"_

_"Reid, you're not." Jackson placed his hand over the Inspector's shoulder, "Describe it."_

_His hands began to shake, "Ummm... Ugly, sharp teeth, red eyes. Was it a Vampire!?"_

_Jackson smiled, "No. Sounds like a Blutbad..."_

_Edmund gave him a blank and confused expression, "A what?"_

_"Sorta like the big bad wolf. Though not that bad and not that wolf-like."_

_His expression became confused, "Jackson, how do you know this?"_

**_The surgeon's eyes danced around the room, "Well like I said, it's a friend. He had books, on all of this stuff. When he showed them to me, I thought I was looking at some madman's fantasies. Until, I realised that they were actually diaries, not stories."_**

_Though Edmund knew that his words were true, he just could not believe them. Or believe what he was seeing, "Am I going crazy?"_

_Jackson smiled and lit a cigarette, "Sadly, no. Going mad is the easy way out of this."_

_Edmund let out a nervous laugh, "Guess you're right..."_


	5. Chapter 5 Loss of an Officer

Slowly, Sean began to open his eyes. Rosalee had a damp cloth on the wound, his forehead was bleeding from the fall. His vision began to focus on her as she smiled back at him. The wound that was coming from his head was not a lot, there was more bruising than blood. His eyes lazily gazed towards Nick and Hank, who looked very worried. Rosalee looked back to Nick, she said something, but Sean could not hear it. A strange feeling crossed over his body, almost as if he was watching the events through a television. His left arm limply moved up, as Monroe spoke. Again, he could not hear it. The others stared at the hand, talking amongst themselves as it moved. Sean began to panic mentally, was he deaf? Or was he still in a dream? As much as he would have liked for that to be the truth, Rosalee waved her hand in front of his eyes to see if she could get a response from him. She turned to Monroe, her lips moved. Sean could see that there was panic between them, but he didn't know what was happening to him. His left hand came to rest on Rosalee's leg, it began to write something with the finger. Rosalee jumped away from the strange feeling, then she reached for a pen and notepad. Placing the pen in his left, the arm started to write. Sean had no control over it, he wasn't even left-handed. Once the pen dropped from the arm's grasp, feeling returned to Sean. Gently, he began to sit up, Rosalee placing her hands on him to assist.

"That was so weird..." Monroe said.

He could hear.

Sean's head snapped to Monroe's voice, "What was?"

Monroe looked to Nick, no one really had a clue what happened.

"It was like you weren't there. We were calling your name, but nothing." Hank said.

"But your eyes were open, and then your hand moved. Man, it was like some creepy horror thing." Monroe had a small amount to fear in his voice.

"What did he write?" Nick asked.

Rosalee gazed down at the notepad and showed it to them; 'Ya all alrit, I'm fine.'

Nick knew that this was not Sean's writing, so did Hank.

"Are you left-handed?" Monroe asked.

Sean shook his head, "No."

"Great punctuation captain." Nick mocked.

"The grammar too, A star." Hank followed suit.

Rosalee took a deep breath as Sean was staring daggers at the pair, "What did you feel?"

"Like someone was pulling my arm on a string."

Rosalee nodded, "Like the movement was not yours?"

"Yes."

Hank's eyes widened, "What's wrong with him?"

"I think he's possessed," she said.

"WHAT?" The others yelled.

Rosalee rose up from the floor, "Yes, it would explain his lack of memory, the dreams and this."

She slammed the notepad on the table.

Monroe was getting ever more fearful of the captain, he was already not fond of him, but this was a new level of events, "What if that's not Renard?"

Rosalee smiled, "I'm certain that it is him."

Slowly, Sean rose up, he was a little wobbly, "Who am I possessed by?"

"I would imagine that it's someone in the dreams. I think the spirit is trying to get you to understand something."

"You think this ghost is trying to communicate?" Hank asked, "Why doesn't he just take over Renard and talk?"

Sean's eyes went wide with fear.

"Because Sean was too conscious so he was only able to take over one side of him. Possibly the most dominant side."

"Which was the left." Nick pointed out, "Who in these dreams is left-handed?"

Sean thought for a moment, "Sergeant Walter Ricsure and Peter Gray a homeless man."

Rosalee returned to her laptop, typing in Walter's name into the search bar, "Okay. Walter Ricsure was a former police sergeant of the C Division. He was transferred to H Division to assist in the murders surrounding Jack the Ripper and Jas the Guillotine. Though this was not his true name, as it was a fake name of an unknown man."

"Well, what do you know?" Hank spoke with some sarcasm.

"His true identity was never discovered, and it was only discovered that his name was fake after his death. He died due to a stabbing in the streets of Whitechapel, being pronounced dead not long after the stabbing. By the chief of the C Division. As the man was a spy for Jack the Ripper."

Nick seemed a little confused, "Explains the fake name."

Rosalee began to scroll, "Detective Inspector Edmund Reid discovered a letter addressed to Abberline, stating the guilt of the chief. He admitted to being threatened to write the letter that announced Walter's arrival. Claiming that Jas the Guillotine had a blade to his throat as he was writing it. Jas threatened that if he was to speak of his appearance to another living soul, then he would return for his head."

Hank's eyes widened, "Man, what a threat?"

"Defiantly," Nick said.

Rosalee smiled, "Ha, listen to this, after his death, a number of bodies were found all across Whitechapel. Over one hundred corpses were discovered, a mixture of men and woman all missing there heads. No heads were found. Though some of the victims, mainly the woman, had their necks and abdomen sliced. Police found, written on the walls of the police station in blood, 'I made a friend of my enemy. I hope ya have a friend. Careful or the Ripper will come for ya chief.' Though this was in German. Leading police to believe that Jas and Jack were killing in competition, then teamed up to get back at the chief and Reid, for allowing Walter to die. Either that or it was a copycat killing."

"So this fake guy was a friend of both the Ripper and the Guillotine?" Hank said.

"He probably joined the police to make sure that they didn't catch either of them," Sean suggested.

Nick took in a deep breath, "What of the homeless man?"

Gracefully, her fingers danced on the keys, typing in the name, "Peter Gray was a young individual who would medically treat men, woman and children who could not afford a doctor. His resources came from his robberies, stealing from other practices. During the times of the Ripper killings, he treated Detective Inspector Edmund Reid for an injury to his leg, when a shard of glass became lodged in it. Not much was known about him, he was one of many suspected to be Jack the Ripper."

Confusion came to Sean, "So what is the spirit trying to tell me?"

Monroe raised his voice, "That there's a Grimm in you."

Sean smiled, "I think Walter was a Grimm."

Rosalee seemed interested by the accusation, "Could he see Wesen?"

"Yes. George Lusk was one."

"The guy that the Ripper sent the kidney to?" Monroe asked with a disgusted tone in his voice.

"Yes, he was a Pflichttreue. I think that Walter was a Grimm, but did not want to kill or just did not want to get caught, so he got Guillotine to kill for him. In return, he would cover for him." Sean theorised.

"Makes sense. Not everyone has it in them to dispatch Wesen." Monroe said, "So how do we get the ghost out?"

"I'll have to look into that. For now, go home and get some rest." Rosalee said.

Nick and Hank drove their captain back to where he lived, not much was said between them. Sean thanked them, but he knew that he would have to walk to work the next day. His car was still at the station, he tried not to dwell on it. Sean ordered some food, before hopping into the shower and then getting ready for bed. His head hit the soft pillow and his eyes began to drift off to sleep.

_Inspector Reid's injury had all but healed, Jackson removed the stitches. Though the American surgeon was impressed by the skill of the person who did it. Edmund sat in his office, gazing blankly at the Ripper files. Abberline walked in._

_"So I heard you were injured?"_

_"That would be correct sir." He was still head in the files._

_"Was it Jackson who did it?"_

_Finally, Edmund's eyes gazed into Abberline's, "No, a young man, Peter Gray."_

_"Oh...Never 'eard of him."_

_Edmund allowed a single snicker to escape his lips, "I did not expect you to, he's homeless."_

_"Homeless? And he can perform medical procedures? Reid does that not strike you as odd. What was his laterality?"_

_"Left."_

_Abberline bellowed out a laugh that came from the bottom of his lungs, "A left-handed surgeon. Come on Reid!"_

_His eyes widened, "Do you believe that he may be the Ripper?"_

_He raised a brow, "Could be. Though it's still up in the air about what hand the Ripper writes with. One letter is left, the second is right. Are we hunting a left or right-handed killer?"_

_Edmund sighed, "We only have possibly five victims to go off. But from that, it is hard to determine what hand the killer is." He flicked the case files over to Abberline, "All of the slashes on their necks and abdomens were created by a sharp surgical blade."_

_"Or a thin knife," Abberline suggested._

_"That is true, but the slashes to their necks are from right to left, indicating a left-handed killer."_

_"However, this could be achieved by a right-handed person, using a backhanded slash. Either way, the Ripper is smart. He's not going to make it easy for you to track him down."_

_Edmund nodded, "I agree. I shall have a chat with Peter."_

_The pair of them left Edmund's office, bumping into Bennet as he came to the station. He was almost out of breath, panting and sweating. He was carrying the body of Walter. With a single instinct, he followed Bennet down to see Jackson. Abberline tailed shortly behind. Bennet placed him on the examination table. A moment of shock came to Jackson, as he put out his cigarette, noticing the body and Abberline._

_Edmund approached the body, noticing that the murder weapon was still in him. A thin knife. It had a piece of paper wrapped around it, being kept on by a single strand of thread. Jackson checked to see if Walter was alive, nothing. With shaking fingers, Edmund freed the paper from the blade.  
_

_Dear Chief Frederick Abberline_

_I hope you can forgive me, but this man had to be taken down. He was an undercover spy for your Ripper. I was sat with the Guillotine's blade to my throat, he stood behind me as I wrote. I never saw the man's face, but there were two men in the room. I believe that one of them was Ripper. Walter returned to me when I stabbed him. The reason as to why he came to me is unknown to me, but he dropped a note;_

_Was Sie gesehen haben, ist die Wahrheit der Welt. Du wurdest von Kreaturen angegriffen, die kein normaler Mensch erklären kann ..._

_Ich habe dich beobachtet, Edmund Reed. '_

_I am unsure of the meaning of this, but it has something to do with your Inspector. I think the Ripper or the Guillotine might be out for his blood._

_In any case, this man was no policeman. Just a conman, wishing to distract our efforts. If I had not done this, I can only think to imagine what Ripper could have done with an accomplice inside. I fear though, that one of them will come for me since I told a soul._

_This man's death shall remain on my conscious._

_-Chief of C Division_

_This may be the last time that you hear from me. I am sorry old friend.  
_

_Everyone gave Abberline sad looks, as he sighed "Oh..." Tears came to their chief's eyes._

_Edmund turned to Jackson, "You know some German."_

_"Does he?" Bennet said handing Abberline a handkerchief._

_Jackson let out a sigh "I can give a rough translation, not a direct one."_

_"Get on with it quack!" Abberline yelled._

_Jackson let out a huff as Edmund handed him the letter, he stared at it for a moment, "All I recognise is that he thinks you are being attacked by strange creatures and that he's been watching you, Reid."_

_"So Walter was a spy." Abberline gave the body an evil stare._

_In a fit of rage, Bennet slammed his fist on one of the white cupboards, "Darn the Ripper!"_

_"Calm down, leave my things be," Jackson said._

_Edmund gazed at the foreign language with confusion, baffling over what it might mean._

_"What does the rest of it say?" Bennet exclaimed._

_Jackson looked at it, "My German is extremely rusty. I've only been a few times. Though I had a friend in Chicago who was from Germany."_

_Edmund's eyes widened, "Could you contact him?"_

_Jackson laughed, "Yeah... It will just take a month for any contact to get to him, then another month for him to replay."_

_"That would take too long," Bennet said._

_Jackson gave him a blank look, "He's a thought, take it to Kaiser."_

_Light came to Edmund's eyes, "I shall see him in the morning."_

_Abberline gave a sigh, "That might be hard, he was killed, head cut off."_

_"Darn..." Edmund said._


End file.
